


The One from Ipswich

by JD_Centric



Category: Summer of 84 (2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Murder, Mystery, Not A Fix-It, Other, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 22:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18302870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Centric/pseuds/JD_Centric
Summary: Davey Armstrong never made it home.// In a world gone wrong, nobody ever finds the missing David Armstrong and Dale Woodworth until it's too late. //





	The One from Ipswich

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, guys! Welcome to another round of me dumping my angst on you! I was really trying to keep my Summer of 84 works on the bright and fluffy side but there were so many ways this movie could've gone horribly wrong so this is me, digging into all it could've been and presenting you with the outcome.  
> Originally this fic was published as a oneshot on tumblr, then I decided I would make it a short series, exploring what had happened, how it happened, how everybody coped and etc. For more Summer of 84 content, check out my tumblr @j-fuckin-d, give requests and just drop by to chat! Now, enjoy the fic.

David Armstrong awoke to the sound of his alarm clock and the loud chirp of a bird outside; a ray of bright sunshine slithered through the closed blinds, brightening his dusky room. He could not remember the dream he had but to wake up made a sudden vague feeling of emptiness stir in the pit of his stomach. Nevertheless, that went rather unnoticed by Davey. He felt good once he blinked away the sleep from his eyes, stretched and sighed, taking in the familiar sight of the poster-covered walls _. His room_.

Davey left the warmth of his bed, feeling better and more energetic than he’s ever remembered feeling. Oddly enough he could hardly remember the last time he woke up feeling so well-rested. As though he had left behind one horrible experience in the land of sleep and it had taken away all of his worry, all of his fatigue. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, got dressed and all of that slowly, without rushing. It had to be Saturday, he thought suddenly, or Sunday but he couldn’t hear his parents making breakfast downstairs as he should have; the chirp of the single bird outside was the only sound he could really hear and it was loud and almost artificial. It chased Davey all the way downstairs to the kitchen. The house was empty, quiet, and there was no sight of his parents.

Weirdly, that hardly bothered Davey as much as it should have. He opened the fridge, poured himself a glass of juice and made himself breakfast. He set the table for himself so methodically as if he did so every day. His mind was almost blank as he followed a routine that felt almost innate, clinical. Sun shone through the windows, filling the kitchen and making the furniture and floor shine. Warmth settled in Davey’s heart as he sat down to eat and it filled him with such unfathomable joy he could hardly think of anything else. He forgot about his parents, barely thought of his friends, and at this point, he couldn’t even stop to consider how odd for him that was. He had a vague feeling that he should have thought about those things, should have wondered more.

_Why was he so alone? Where were the sounds? Why was the sun so bright?_

He had just raised his sandwich from the plate to take a bite when the doorbell rang. The sound was horribly loud and sudden. It startled Davey out of his serenity and he sat up, crossed the kitchen and walked past the white marker board on the fridge. He stopped there for one fleeting moment, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he studies the clean surface. It was blank, empty. An odd feeling settled over him as he thought that there just might have had to be something there. Something was missing. Something very important that he couldn’t quite place.

But the family pictures, postcards and magnets were all there. That fact helped Davey shake away the dread and he continued towards the front door. He crossed the hall and gave himself a once-over in the hallway mirror before his hand closed around the handle. A bright smile graced his young face and he pulled the door open…

The fear rushing through him like a sudden gust of icy wind grounded him and his body froze, struck by a series of overwhelming feelings. His eyes widened and the chirp of the bird disappeared, muffled by the blood rushing through his ears with the rapid beating of his heart. He exhaled whatever air was left in his lungs and it left him in a short, choking gasp. There, just across the threshold of the front door which separated not only them but the safety of Davey’s home and the grey world outside, stood a very familiar figure, intimidating in its size and malicious in its haunting aura.

“Davey!” A man exclaimed merrily, a wide smile splitting his face until it turned dark and angry as he crossed the threshold into Davey’s safe place uninvited. “Boy, you look just as good as our last time together, don’t you?”

Davey tried to force the door shut but the man was already halfway inside already and he was far stronger, almost inhumanly so. He kept the door open and shut it only once he was inside the house. Dressed in his beige slacks and bland button-up shirt, he would have hardly looked as frightening but Davey knew better; he could feel the man and his rage bubbling, like water in a drain. He knew who he was and maybe he shouldn’t have but he did and with his name came the shocking realization that there was more he knew.

 _Mr Mackey was in his house_.  _And Mr Mackey did not mean anything good_.

In his haste to run, Davey’s feet caught in the carpet and he tripped. A short yelp left him when he hit the floor but the ache went as quickly as it came as he began to furiously kick his feet, pushing himself away from the slowly approaching ex-officer. Mackey’s movements were purposefully slow, prolonged, as he watched with unmasked pleasure the horror and panic steadily overcoming the teenager.

“Mom!” Davey cried at the top of his lungs. “Dad…!”

When Davey rolled over to try and get back on his feet, Mackey reached down. His fingers grasped the back of Davey’s shirt and he easily pulled him up. One of Davey’s wrists landed in the trap of the man’s unrelenting grip when he tried to pray his hands off himself. Davey couldn’t scream and he couldn’t struggle. A breathy whimper forced its way past his lips, making way for more as Mackey dragged his unwilling body towards the kitchen.

“I see you’ve made breakfast.” He said, his smile wide and pleased though his tone remained sharp and dangerous. “Growing boys should eat breakfast, I suppose. So don’t let me ruin your morning, David, sit down and finish. Come on,  _sit down_ , I said!”

He forced Davey’s body back onto the chair, setting his heavy hands over his shoulders as a reminder of his presence and to keep Davey seated when he tried to scramble away. Then he sighed deeply, fingers flexing and relaxing over Davey’s stiff shoulders, squeezing harder every time and fuelling Davey’s terror.

“To tell you the truth, I never thought we’d meet again,” Mackey said, sounding as though he knew well what he was talking about but his words did nothing but confuse Davey. “And under these circumstances no less?” He chuckled, “Never have I thought…”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Davey mumbled, his confidence quickly diminishing and his voice becoming faint. “You  _can’t_  be here…”

He called out for his parents again and tried to stand up and run but Mackey’s grip was unrelenting. His hands grasped Davey’s upper arms, his fingers closed around the muscle tightly and he forced Davey back into his seat. Davey could feel the bruises beginning to form as the blood vessels popped one after the next under his poor skin.

“Oh, how about you stop that?” Mackey taunted. “Where do you think you’re going to go? You’re alone here. Well, now I’m here too, of course, to keep you company.”

“What are you talking about…?”

His question seemed to have caught Mackey off guard and for a single moment he was too stunned to answer, his fingers rubbing idly across Davey’s arms and shoulders, almost soothingly.

“You really don’t know do you?” He asked, grinning once again. Looking down at Davey proved him right and he laughed, the sudden cheery sound startling Davey further. He could sense the faint smell of Mackey’s aftershave when he leaned in closer to speak lowly, threateningly almost, into his ear. “None of this is real, David. And you want to know more? It never has been. Because, David, you’re not home anymore and you’ll never be going back home. There’s no mommy and daddy here, no friends, no anything. Only  _us_.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about…!” Davey screamed, his desperation easy to hear and feel. In the hands of a psychopath, however, he could not expect anything less and it was slowly beginning to get to him. Because Davey felt as though Mackey knew what he was saying. He knew what the truth was; he knew deep down ever since he woke up from that  _awful_  dream that chased him into reality.

“You’re dead, David,” Mackey spoke next, his voice but a thin whisper, and with a pleased exhale his hands found Davey’s shoulders again, sinking into the thin skin, digging into the bone and muscle to feel him shiver. “And so am I. But, surprise, this is no heaven.”

His hand found Davey’s hair, fingers digging into the soft strands before he ever so  _gingerly_ , or not as much, pulled his head back; slanted eyes met those wide with fear and clouded with tears threatening to spill at the horrid realisation. Though, Davey had known for a while now that nothing was real. It was too good to ever be real, too clean, too safe.

“Cheer up,” Mackey said, with mock sympathy, “We have all the time in the world to play games and tricks on one another, don’t we? We might even have enough to make things right between us, right.”

Davey’s breath hitched and he shut his eyes, denial helping him dispose of Mackey’s intimidating presence, helping him force away the feeling of his hands on him and his smell. But no amount of denial could help Davey fight through the memories seeping through the cracks of an imaginary wall separating his world of false security and the truth Mackey was a proof of. Suddenly the artificial noises of the street had a reason – Davey was not home and never had been. The board on the fridge was missing what did not exist in this other world – the people.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about you for the longest time.” Mackey continued, his voice so loud that it was impossible for Davey to tune it out and imagine it wasn’t there. He stroked his hair, roughly, once before turning to walk around the kitchen in slow, languid strides. Davey didn’t even dare to move anymore. There was no place to hide, just like Mackey had said. “Ever since I got rid of you…Then all until they caught me but you know what? I actually felt sorry for you, David. You know, in all those months after I killed you, I never touched a single other boy. Not one. And then throughout the trial, I thought of how we’d meet, should there be an afterlife…You have no idea how much I hoped for this, David.”

“Five years.” Mackey declared suddenly and Davey knew without him saying so outright that five years was the time he had been gone from the world of the living, stuck in the loop that haunted the dead. “Five years, David, is a pretty long time to spend in prison. Especially if you know you wouldn’t be walking out. Or if you know that your last stroll will be down the hall for the electric chair!”

Mackey must have found that a rather fun thing to say as he laughed, looking into the fridge, always full, before absently digging through the cupboards.

“But I thought of you.” He said, almost as praise. “The whole time. And I begged God to give me one last meeting with you. Because I’ve always been a good man, David, as good as the circumstances allowed me and I knew he’d answer my prayers. And look at us now. Together again.”

“What do you want from me?” Davey managed, not even trying to hide the tremor in his voice. “Why are you here at all…?!”

“I’m not your favourite person, am I?” Mackey chuckled. “Well…I guess you missed me less than I did you.”

He walked around Davey’s chair to face him and Davey sank back, bracing himself for… _what_?

“I see you still know when to flinch back,” Mackey said, grinning, “then I guess we can really rebuild our relationship, can’t we now, David? Sure, we can.”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“We do have a lot to talk about.” Mackey nodded solemnly, pulling the chair behind him closer to Davey’s and sitting down. He watched Davey cower for a moment, greatly enjoying the sight, before nodding towards his plate and the forgotten sandwich there. “How about you finish that now? Eat, David. Before I make you.”

He finished with a friendly wink and though at the mention of food his stomach tied into a tight knot, Davey took the sandwich with shaking hands; a breathy sob broke from his lips when he took a bite and he didn’t know why eating caused him such pain and despair and he didn’t want to know just what Mackey was about to tell him.

Watching him chew, Mackey’s satisfactory grin widened and his eyes darkened. He opened his mouth and spoke, spoke, then spoke some more until Davey could feel the bile rise in his throat and his windpipe tightened around the chunks of dry bread and bitter cheese…

He wanted to go home. He wanted to wake up. Only when he did the next morning, Mackey was still there; he had no intention of leaving. Not anymore.


End file.
